


let me give you my life

by Lizzen



Category: Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternative Universe - Marketing Firm, Anxiety, Competence Kink, F/F, First Kiss, Genderbending, Lady Pellaeon, Lady Thrawn, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, idk either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 04:27:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2837939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzen/pseuds/Lizzen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>competence is impressive, most impressive, in any setting</p>
            </blockquote>





	let me give you my life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bofoddity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bofoddity/gifts).



> A yuletide treat!!! <333 also, yeah, no seriously idk either

Once the stars are out, the _Chimaera_ gets livelier, the drinks are poured more liberally, the music gets louder, and the lights are dimmed lower. 

“Have I mentioned, captain, how much I love watching you work?,” Thrawn says, her lips curled up in such a breathtakingly beautiful smile. Blinded by the praise, it’s all Gilly can do but smile back. Admittedly, a little more drunk; that uneven slide of wine-stained lips against white teeth.

Earlier, there had been a successful interview with Core Worlds. Empire Marketing is well on their way to taking most of the best accounts in town away from The Alliance, especially with their new CEO in charge. Strategic almost to a fault, Thrawn knows what she was doing, and knows exactly how to lead them to the next level.

(The only real sour note was missing their key social media specialist. Once an exclusive freelancer to the Empire, Mara Jade was now working for The Alliance. This was possibly because she may or may not be dating their creative director, but Gilly didn’t believe the gossip.)

After the interview, there was a party at their favorite place. Thrawn had ordered champagne, bottles and bottles, and then there was a chianti to die for, and there were smiles and laughs and good jokes, and one by one the staff staggered off to cabs or to be taken home by their loved ones. 

Their creative director, Joruus, was the first to leave, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief when he did. Thrawn had stolen him from some obscure agency and demanded that everyone work with him. It was hard to admit: he was peerless at creative, simply stunning design and almost supernatural understanding of client needs. But he was a crazy motherfucker. 

Now, side by side at the back, there are only two: the vice president and her CEO. 

Thrawn leans in close. “Captain, oh my captain, thanks for following me into battle today,” she says. Gilly’s intense to work with; more than one staff member has called her that name behind her back with a sour tone and rolling eyes. Thrawn finds it endearing. Scribbled “Captain Pellaeon” on her confirmation of Gilly’s promotion to vice president. She admires strong leadership, and those who challenge her decisions. 

“For you, anything,” Gilly replies, hoping her voice isn’t a slur, hoping she doesn’t launch into a full loving drunk mode with “you’re my favorite person” and other crap she’s totally said to her friends before after this many glasses of wine. She salutes with two fingers and makes the bravest face she can. "Nothing and no one can stand in our way."

A giggle erupts out of Thrawn; not a sound often heard. Gilly wonders at it, and hopes she can remember it in the morning. Such a joyful sound, and so unlike her. In Gilly’s experiencing watching and learning from her, Thrawn has a tight grip on control; she so rarely loses it. 

Gilly thinks: if I’m not too careful, God, if I’m not too careful, I’m going to fall in love with this hurricane of a woman. 

Bad for business, very bad form. Definitely not how she was taught, and definitely not how she thought of her previous racist scuzzball of a bossman. Gilly has never been much for romance, never mind in the workplace. But Thrawn, she’s learned, changes everything. 

Because, well, it's not that she hasn't thought about it. Thought about kissing her breathless in the elevator and mussing up that perfect blue black hair. Thought of Thrawn pushing her forcefully into her desk chair, taking some strange toy out of the drawer and pushing it all the way into her own mouth before thrusting it mercilessly inside her till all Gilly can do is helplessly flail as she is fucked to oblivion. It's not as if she's not imagined getting on her knees and licking Thrawn dry, just to know how she tastes – never mind to find out what kind of keening noises Thrawn might make as she comes. 

But still. Some things are just not done. 

"You're miles away. Come back to me." Thrawn's voice is so low and almost fond and Gilly breathes in, thinking suddenly that they are breathing the same air. It's enough to make her heart beat unsteady, and she feels so completely asinine and unprofessional and all the things that get women fired. It's one thing to imagine and another to be pressed hip to hip with your boss. Gilly thinks: this, this is it, this is what I want forever, we could take over everything, her and me, we are invincible, and oh my god—

Shuddering with a burst of anxiety, Gilly almost whispers out, “stop it, stop it” to herself, when Thrawn grips her chin between two fingers and pulls her in, her mouth already open. 

"You know what I love about you? You think too much."

I missed something, Gilly thinks, confused and delighted and thoroughly dumbfounded. And those perfectly soft lips touch hers.

It’s a horrible kiss, it’s dreadful and sloppy, and the angle is all wrong, and the taste is mostly salt and red wine and Gilly gets her hands up in Thrawn’s hair and tugs desperately. It’s in that moment that Gilly thinks: a minute ago, I would have followed you anywhere. Now, I might just die for you, die for you right now—

Thinking is generally over once Thrawn moves from her lips to taste Gilly’s neck, sucking in slow wet kisses against sensitive skin. Gilly has no idea what to do with her hands, so she just clings to Thrawn’s hair, fingers tangled in soft, perfect curls, and tries not to whimper too loudly. 

“Tell me to stop,” Thrawn whispers in the shell of her ear. “This is a terrible idea, after all.”

“Uh huh,” Gilly says, adjusting slightly so Thrawn can have a better angle at the skin just below her earlobe. “Yeah.”

Ever perfect, Thrawn gets out her phone and texts words to Rukh while continuing her assault on Gilly’s neck. Shivers multiply down her skin as she imagines those lips kissing other parts of her, and she wonders at how wet she must be now and if in her state, she could be more active in this increasingly dangerous embrace.

God, she thinks, I’m the best at what I do and I’m now worried about disappointing her at being a shit lover. How did I get here, how did I get here, she thinks. An anxiety spiral from hell brings out some sharp breaths and Thrawn’s lips halt on her pulse point.

Gently, carefully, Thrawn gives her space, and takes her hand. She squeezes it slowly and then brings her wrist up to her lips. A gentle kiss, and then the tactile contact stops. 

Gilly feels the loss, feels cold in the absence and as Thrawn looks away from her, feels panic move into all of her vulnerable corners. 

Buck up, girl, she thinks. You’re braver and stronger than this. And all will be forgiven and forgotten in the morning. 

“I have you now,” Thrawn says, not even looking at her. Four strange words, strangely said. 

Breathing becomes hard. Gilly smiles through the panic and the dizzying vertigo of too much wine, and grabs her purse. 

*  
She doesn’t quite remember how she got into the back of Thrawn’s car, she just remembers her eyes opening, hearing Rukh humming in the front, and feeling a hand gripping her tight.

Thrawn looks over at her and there is that blinding smile again. “We did good today,” she says. 

“We’re the best,” Gilly replies, believing it. 

“Yes, we are, captain.”

*  
Gilly wakes up alone on an unfamiliar couch, some opulent fabric against her cheek, and she realizes in a headachey daze that, apparently, Thrawn is a lady~. There’s relief in that. And from the smell nearby, also coffee. 

“Well. We're a hot mess,” Gilly says, fondly, and standing in the kitchen as Thrawn pours a second cup. 

Thrawn’s smiles aren’t as wide and breathtaking this morning, but her eyes are bright as much as they are calculating. 

The cup is placed on the counter, and Thrawn pulls Gilly into her arms. A thrilling, daring move in the light of the morning, and yet, if Thrawn is making this decision, it must be right. It must be. 

This time, the kiss is perfect, with just the right measure of heat. The slide of her tongue against Thrawn’s lower lip brings out a gasp, and Gilly will treasure that sound forever, regardless of whatever happens. Held in a grip at her waist, Gilly takes Thrawn’s face in her hands and is gentle rather than passionate; warm and full of joy. 

She wonders what's next. Who will make the first move to twist something sweet to something overwhelming and desperate and thoroughly real? Gilly imagines Thrawn thrusting those long fingers inside her, a perfect steady rhythm that matches how she tongues at Gilly’s neck. She's perfect at everything else, so why not? As she considers this next step, she vaguely notices that Thrawn's kisses are getting dirtier, messier, more chaotic. Until Thrawn is gasping for air, Gilly realizes, in the fog of fantasy, she's snuck a hand up Thrawn's skirt and is pressing fingers hard and fast against soft and wet folds and a very hard clit. Thrawn is slippery wet, so wet that it’s hard to make purchase but it almost doesn’t matter.

After one particularly undignified moan, Thrawn looks up at her, her eyes just slightly red. Gilly stills her movements and keeps herself from immediately tasting her fingers, curious and delighted at what she has done, what she is doing. 

"You're my favorite person," Gilly says, sober and honest. 

“And you’re a masterpiece,” Thrawn whispers to her, reverently. As if that is the highest compliment she knows how to say.


End file.
